Eighth Doctor and Sam Jones secret Santa drabble
by missy20201
Summary: The Doctor takes Sam on a special trip for Christmas. This was written for the Classic Who secret Santa on Tumblr; my match was vortisaurus! I hope you enjoy it c:


The Doctor was singing. He did that sometimes. Not just the idle murmured lines to oneself, but the out-loud, wholeheartedly belted verses, in a loud, sonorous voice. He wasn't bad, actually, compared to some people Sam had heard before. She wandered out of the TARDIS kitchen to find him, following the sound of his singing voice. She still hadn't been on the time machine for very long, and the long halls were still confusing to her; they were dark and brooding enough for her to get lost in, and they all looked the same. It was a wonder she found her room after their daily mishaps they called adventures.

As Sam walked along the hallways, blindly trusting her senses to reach the Doctor, she had to marvel at the TARDIS' interior. It was dark and Victorian-esque; so unlike the Doctor's cheerful, childlike, head-in-the-clouds behavior, and yet it managed to suit him perfectly. She supposed it made sense, really. Such an incongruous man as the Doctor could only have a similarly incongruous ship to travel in.

Just as Sam thought idly that the hallways were almost too dark to see in, the dim lights brightened a notch or two. She didn't pause in her walking, though she looked around herself curiously, out of the corners of her eyes. The TARDIS worked in odd ways. Once, she was sure there had been no butter in the fridge, but when she'd complained about tasteless toast, then looked once more out of irrational hope, and there'd been a brand new unopened tub of the stuff right in front of her. It was as though the TARDIS was made of magic, as though she were alive. After all, the Doctor talked to - and sometimes stroked - her like she was, so who knew?

By some incredible happenings - or perhaps a ship that could lead her passengers where she wanted to go - Sam managed to step out of the hall, and into the console room. She was almost sure this hadn't been the route she'd taken to get to the kitchen earlier, but dwelling on it for too long seemed like dangerous territory. Instead, she wandered over to the Doctor, who was tinkering uselessly with some switches on the main console. He didn't glance at her as she came up to him, but stopped short in his singing to speak anyway.

"Hello, Sam," he murmured pleasantly. "Good lunch?"

"Yeah," Sam agreed. She leaned against the console, and looked around at what he was doing. "What were you singing?" she asked. The Doctor didn't glance up.

"A Christmas carol," he said breezily, picking up a piece of - well, something - and observing it closely. Sam raised an eyebrow.

"No Christmas carol I've ever heard," she said doubtfully.

"That's because it's not from Earth," he told her. His tone was friendly, but there was a hint of something. Something sort of like 'I've been to many other worlds than just Earth', sort of haughty but not quite rude. Sam nodded knowingly.

"Right, of course. Which planet, then?" she asked, leaning over to better see his face around his curtain of curls. The Doctor smiled absently.

"Oh, what was it called, it was in the fourth galaxy… Spessernit. No. Raxacomb. Yes, that sounds right," he rambled. The words meant nothing to Sam, but she made a sound like they did. Never mind the idea that apparently other planets celebrated Christmas. She frowned then, and gave the Doctor a perplexed look that he didn't look up to see.

"But why are you humming Christmas songs? It's not Christmas." In fact, it was still the middle of October; Halloween was right around the corner.

"Isn't it?" the Doctor asked. He finally looked at her proper, and there was a playful glint in his eyes. Understanding dawned on Sam.

"It is somewhere," she said. A wide grin flashed across the man's face, and he set down the thing-a-majig he was toying with. "And I intend to celebrate it. Where do you want to go for Christmas, Sam? Somewhere warm, somewhere cold? A festival?" He moved around the console, speaking excitedly, waving his hands. He had a look of childlike joy on his face.

"I'm not sure," Sam said, having had no time to think about it.

"Well you get to choose. Really, you choose, it's all up to you," the Doctor insisted, and clapped his hands together. Sam leaned on the console, thoughtful. She pondered it for a bit, then swung around to grin at the curly-haired man with her.

"What about the North Pole?"

"Done," the Doctor said, and began to input coordinates. Sam grinned excitedly.

"So," the girl began, "what do I get your for Christmas, Doctor?"

"I get you," the Doctor told her. Sam frowned.

"Huh?"

"I get to spend Christmas with you," he explained, smiling brightly at her. Sam's frown deepened.

"Do you usually spend Christmas alone?" she wondered. The Doctor didn't miss a beat.

"I always love spending Christmases with friends," he told her. "Any time with friends is great, but the holidays are just so...festive, don't you think?"

Dodging the question. Alright, Sam would let him get away with it for the time being. After all, it appeared that he was relishing the moment. It didn't seem to be any harm, at least for the moment.

"Yes, they're very festive with friends," she agreed.

"Well, don't just stand there, Sam," the Doctor prompted her. "If we're going to the North Pole, you need to be dressed for the event!" He waved her in the general direction of the TARDIS wardrobe. Sam laughed a little, and ran off to find a heavy coat and pair of gloves.

She returned shortly to find the Doctor staring thoughtfully at the scanner. Still struggling into the ridiculously heavy clothing she'd nabbed, Sam joined him. She looked at what he was seeing, and was met with the sight of an endless stretch of untouched white. She looked at the Doctor, only to see his clear, excited eyes already trained on her.

"Is that really it? We made it to the North Pole?" she checked.

"The one and only," the Doctor agreed. He reached out to swipe at a switch on the console, and the pair swung around to face the opening TARDIS doors. Both scampered out and into the snowy expanse. Sam reflected briefly that it was almost a shame to ruin the perfect, untouched snow that glittered brightly in the sunlight. But before voicing the thought ever crossed her mind, the Doctor had run out ahead of her, and kicked up quite a mess of the stuff. Oh well, Sam thought, no reason to hold back now.

So she joined him. The first snowball couldn't be tracked down to either party, because both would quickly deny such down-low, childish routines - it was totally Sam, though - but both participated eagerly. Sam couldn't be sure how long it went on for before it was finally over. They could've spent hours at it. She had stayed close to the TARDIS to use as a barrier, hiding behind her to dodge flying balls of snow. And she did her best to try and ignore the quietly dissatisfied hum she thought she felt at the TARDIS' being used as a shield, and all the snow barraging her.

The Doctor, on the other hand, was a mite more crafty. While Sam had expected the upper hand in their battle, due to her partner's being out in the open, he was adapted quickly enough. Between snowballs, he gathered armloads of snow towards him. By the end of the event, the Doctor had built himself a shield over half his height, and must've accumulated an entire armada of snowballs, based on how fast they were coming. Sam leaned back against the backside of the TARDIS, panting and grinning with exhilaration. She scooted to the edge, peeked out just an inch, and leaned back immediately. Surely enough, a snowball sailed right past her. The Doctor was on point.

"Okay!" Sam shouted. "Okay, truce! I'm done, you win!" She stood, brushed herself off, and peeked around the side of the big blue box again. This time she was met with the sight of the Doctor standing beside his snow shield, arms tucked politely behind his back, face the open picture of innocence. The man shambled over and smiled victoriously at her, and yet he somehow didn't seem overly boastful about it.

"I didn't take you for one to give up easily," he told Sam. Sam shook her head.

"I want to find the north pole," she said. The Doctor's expression turned to that of confusion.

"We're already at the North Pole. We're standing in it." For good measure, he hopped in place. Sam fought the urge to roll her eyes, and smiled instead, affectionately.

"Not the place, the thing," she insisted. "There's supposed to be a pole here with stripes and stuff, right at the actual North Pole." The Doctor began to follow her as she pushed through the snow, looking around. She didn't get far before stopping, and turning around. She bit her lip, trying to figure out which way was north. She considered asking the Doctor, shot down the idea as quickly as it had formed, and peered around herself once more.

"It should be this way, then," the Doctor called cheerfully. Sam spun around to see the Doctor pointing in another direction, and set off after him. The two trudged through the deep snow for what felt like too long before something could be seen in the distance. Sam paused, then barked a laugh, and took off running. Her progress was slowed slightly by the highly-piled snow, but she kept at it, and got to a surprisingly okay pace. The Doctor, for all his supposed years, was impressively agile, and scampered along right after her.

Sam reached the pole first. It was a cute thing, not super tall, with a ball on top, and a red stripe swirling its way down to the base, hidden in snow. Sam smacked her hand against it, then used that for leverage to lean against and pant for breath. The Doctor arrived seconds after her, grinning and breathing just fine. Sam gave him a dirty look for his fitness, but there was no real anger behind it, and it melted off her face as quickly as it had come. After all, with the Doctor beaming at her like that, like a child, how could she justify being angry with him?

"I can't believe I got to touch the north pole," Sam said suddenly, and laughed.

"Yes, not every human gets the opportunity, I suppose. Not every Time Lord either, though, of course…," the curly-haired man beside her mused. Sam's smile turned more fond as she watched him. She'd been with him only a short time, but she was glad for what they'd had, and looked forward to more. He really was such a warm man, the Doctor. A bit ditzy sure, but it added to the appeal, somehow. Sam reached out to touch his arm.

"Doctor, I'm cold. Let's go back to the TARDIS," she suggested.

"Already?" the Doctor asked with obvious confusion. Sam shrugged.

"Yeah," she replied. The Doctor blinked at her again, then nodded. On their way back, they needn't worry about losing their way, for their messy footprints were painfully obvious in the snow. Back at the time machine, the Doctor fiddled with the key for a few moments before getting it to slot in and actually unlock - "It's an old key for an Old Girl, leave her be!" - and the two stepped back inside. They welcomed the warmth in contrast to the biting cold of the outside.

On the side table by the couch in front of the fireplace, they found hot chocolate and blankets.


End file.
